


Lookalikes

by LadyLampblack, phantomthief_fee



Series: BATIM Drabbles [26]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLampblack/pseuds/LadyLampblack, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: Drabbles for an AU created by @liliflower137, @missmangos-wonderland, and myself on Tumblr involving false Henrys created by Joey
Series: BATIM Drabbles [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/910824
Comments: 88
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: Could I make a request? I have a dire need for a fake (perhaps not very well made) Henry having Joey snap at them at the end of a loop, letting it slip that they're not the real Henry, then the resulting aftermath of him being thrown into the next loop still dealing with the fact that their whole reality has shattered**

Sure. 

I feel bad for the poor thing.

* * *

They were not Henry Stein. They had thought they were, but evidently…They were not. They weren’t even a human being according to Joey.

Joey had been angry when they’d arrived at his apartment. A sub-par performance, he’d said. He cited their numerous deaths and the fact that they’d somehow managed to by-pass a large chunk of the story by failing to run into Sammy and killing Alice and Boris earlier than intended by accidentally leading the Ink Demon to Level 9.

“I thought I finally had a good one!” Joey yelled as he paced about behind his kitchen island. “And then you went and bungled the story completely!”

They sat behind the counter, completely baffled as to what Joey was talking about. They didn’t know he meant when he talked about the “story”. They didn’t understand what was going on at all. How had they gotten from the studio to here? Why did everything look so different?

Noting their lost look, Joey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is what I get for rushing it,” he said. “I should have taken more time if I wanted a proper Henry. You’d think I would have _learned_ something from all those experiments.”

“A…proper Henry…?” They echoed. “What…What are you talking about?” Their voice was hoarse and unsure.

Joey lowered his hands and turned to them, a smile spreading across his features. It was an awful smile, full of condescension and glee at their discomfort and confusion.

“You didn’t **really** think you were Henry, did you?” He asked, beginning to laugh. “You’re nothing but a copy. And clearly, not even a well made one.” His laugh was a cartoon villain’s, booming and maniacal. So joyous at the suffering in front of him.

“But I- Everyone called me Henry,” they protested. “ **You** called me Henry.”

“Because that’s your role,” Joey sneered. “But you are most certainly **not** Henry. You’ve certainly proven that. No matter how you try, you will never be him. You’re a stand-in. Nothing more. And,” he leaned across the counter so that his nose almost touched theirs. “If you continue to perform so poorly, I’ll be forced to replace you.”

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t **have** anything to say. They opened and closed their mouth a few times while Joey returned to where he’d been standing near the sink.

“Anyway, let’s do another run-through.” He gestured toward the door behind them. “Go on. If you’re back in town go visit the old studio, you know the drill. Go.” He made a shooing motion with his hand.

Their body moved on its own, standing and moving over to the door. The door opened before them, revealing the sketched sepia-toned landscape of the studio. They stepped inside, the door closing behind them.

“Alright, I’m here, Joey. Let’s see what you wanted to show me.” The line passed their lips as if on instinct. As soon as they’d spoken, though, they collapsed onto the floor as the force puppeting them departed. They didn’t know what to do now. Joey wanted them to run through the story again, but they didn’t know if they could. Not after their whole world had been shattered.

They weren’t Henry Stein. They’d never been Henry Stein. They were just a copy made by Joey. Their memories, their personality, none of it was real. They felt like curling up in a ball and just staying there. But Joey would be angry if they didn’t play along. He’d be angry if they messed up again.

He’d…He’d destroy them.

So, they slowly got up, taking a few deep breaths. It would be fine, right? If they could do this right, maybe Joey wouldn’t get rid of them. Deep in their heart, though, they knew this loop would likely be their last. They weren’t good enough for Joey. They weren’t perfect enough.

And Joey never tolerated anything less than perfection.


	2. Chapter 2

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: I've got two more for the little fake Henry from before! (his AU doesn't really have a name,,,) To get a break from the loops, he hides in Joey's home, hoping to rest for a while. But after being away from the ink machine for so long, his body starts to break down and melt. Joey finds him like this and is furious.**

This poor guy.

Thank you for telling me so much about the AU, by the way.

* * *

Plush was hiding in Joey’s closet.

When he’d completed his last loop and been spit out into Joey’s apartment, Joey hadn’t been home. He’d found himself in an empty and silent apartment. He felt so relieved he wanted to cry. He finally had some respite from the endless torture of the loops.

He didn’t even consider running. He wouldn’t be able to survive in the real world. He didn’t even look human. He’d caught sight of himself in a mirror in Joey’s bathroom, which had crushed any lingering hopes that he might be something even resembling human.

Part of his face did look Henry, but the rest of it just looked like a doll wearing clothes. Mitten-like hands, legs that just ended in nubs, a whole body covered in stitches. He could never pass for a human being. If he tried to leave, he had no doubt that he’d immediately be returned to Joey.

So, he hid in Joey’s closet. He felt safe in the warm darkness, surrounded by clothes. He was alone. Finally, alone. There was no Ink Demon chasing him, no angel demanding errands, no Searchers, no Butcher Gang clones, no Joey yelling at him for not performing well enough. Just him. He almost fell asleep a few times since it was so warm and cozy.

Then something went wrong.

Plush began to feel a sort of…dampness. He opened his eyes, looking down to see where the sensation could be coming from. To his horror, he found it was coming from himself. His body was beginning to melt.

“No,” Plush whispered, his breathing speeding up. “No no nonononononono.”

His first thought wasn’t that his own body was breaking down. His first thought was how angry Joey was going to be. Joey would be furious if he found him like this, ruining all his clothes. But he couldn’t just disappear into the studio to start another loop. Joey had to be there to say the line and begin the story. Plush couldn’t access the studio without him.

All he could do was wait for Joey to arrive. Or wait for himself to just turn into a puddle and die. Would melting kill him? Every time he’d died in the studio he’d just respawned at one of those Bendy statues.

Fortunately, only because it didn’t give Plush too much time to stew in his own fear, it didn’t take long for Joey to return.

Plush heard the door open and Joey enter. He knew it was Joey from the thumping of his cane and his tell-tale whistling. Plush began to hyperventilate again, his body melting faster from the stress.

“What the Hell?” He heard Joey’s voice from outside the closet. Joey could probably see the ink pooling out from under the closet door.

“What on earth-? What are you doing in there?!” For a moment, Joey looked confused. Upon seeing Plush, though, his expression turned to one of unbridled rage. Especially after noticing the ink soaking into his clothes.

“You worthless waste of ink!” Joey roared, grabbing Plush by the arm and yanking him out of the closet. Plush didn’t even try to defend himself, just sobbing and whimpering as Joey dragged him to the studio door, yelling and ranting along the way.

“I should have scrapped you ages ago,” Joey growled, yanking the door open. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He then all but threw Plush inside, slamming the door behind him.

Plush remained on the ground, curled up in a ball and sobbing to himself.

Why did Joey keep doing this to him? What had he done to deserve it? Oh yes, that was right. He wasn’t Henry. This was his punishment for not being Henry. It was his fault that he wasn’t good enough.

It would always be his fault.


	3. Chapter 3

**[missmangos-wonderland](https://missmangos-wonderland.tumblr.com/) asked: A prompt for ye: A fake Henry made from a photograph and missing three of his limbs being repaired by joey. hes in a delerious haze as his three missing limbs ooze ink**

I’ll do my best! [@liliflower137](https://tmblr.co/m6IUUxKDNGCvV8dmwLG96Vg) told me about the AU a bit, so I hope I can do this justice

* * *

He couldn’t feel his legs or his left arm. That was the first thing he thought upon coming to consciousness. He couldn’t feel his legs or his arm. It was hard to think. He tried to move, tried to get his bearings, but the limbs he couldn’t feel suddenly exploded into white-hot pain, causing him to scream.

“Mm. That’ll need some fixing.” He could hear Joey’s voice from somewhere in his haze of delirium and pain.

“Joey?” He croaked.

“That’s me,” Joey replied. “Good to hear you remember me. I can’t tell you how many times you’ve come out not knowing who I am.” His voice sounded strange. It was lower and rougher than Henry was used to hearing. He sounded…older. Also, what was Joey talking about? None of what he’d said made any sense.

“What’s…What’s going on?” Henry tried to move again to get a look at his friend, but once more his limbs exploded into pain and he cried out.

“Try not to move, Henry,” Joey said. “You’re still unstable.” Henry felt himself be pushed back down onto whatever it was he was laying on. It felt like he was on a table or something. It was so hard.

“Why does it hurt?” Henry whimpered.

“I’m afraid you came out a bit incomplete, old friend,” Joey laughed. Henry could feel him touching the areas he couldn’t feel and…something felt wrong. Henry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about it felt wrong. Like there should have been something where Joey was touching.

Henry forced his eyelids open, (they were strangely heavy) desperate to see what was going on. He almost screamed again when he saw himself. His left arm and both his legs weren’t there. It looked like they’d been cut off. The stumps were oozing something thick and black.

“Wha- What happened to me?” Henry gasped, using his right arm to get himself into a sitting position. His whole body felt both hot and cold. What had happened?! Where were his limbs?!

“Like I said, you came out incomplete,” Joey said, patting Henry’s back. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you fixed up.”

Henry was too caught up in his own horror to notice how the grey in Joey’s hair or the wrinkles on his face. He wasn’t thinking clearly. The pain and fear clouded his mind and blinded him to what was going on around him.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked, reaching out to touch the stumps. It didn’t hurt just to lightly touch them, although the texture of the black ooze was revolting. The smell of the ooze was so familiar. Like…ink. But it couldn’t be.

“Lie back down for me, will you?” Joey put a hand on Henry’s shoulder, trying gently to force him back down.

“Joey, what’s going on?” Henry demanded, although he didn’t look at Joey. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his missing limbs.

“Henry, lay back down.” There was an edge to Joey’s voice. “I need to fix you.”

“Where are my legs, Joey?! Where’s my arm?!” Henry’s voice was rising out of panic. “What happened to me?!”

“Henry,” Joey growled, his fingers digging into Henry’s shoulder.

It was at that point that Henry lost consciousness.

.

He drifted in and out of wakefulness, Joey’s voice the only constant. Every time he regained consciousness, Joey was talking to him. He didn’t process most of it. There was some stuff about Henry quitting the studio, although Henry didn’t remember doing anything of the sort. He was starting to be able to feel his legs and arm again. He was so confused, though. What was going on? Why had he woken up missing his limbs? What was Joey talking about?

Knowing Joey, he wasn’t going to get any answers any time soon. Joey didn’t do straight answers.


	4. Chapter 4

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: Second one for the fake Henry. One loop he's taking a long time to get started, just sitting by the front entrance, when someone opens the door. A much more realistic Henry enters, he hopes against hope that maybe he'll be able to free him, but around chapter 3 or 4, the new Henry dies and comes back. Real humans can't do that. This is his replacement.**

These poor boys. Joey’s the worst

* * *

One day, a new Henry showed up.

Plush had been taking a long time to get started, just sitting by the front entrance. He’d been feeling especially despondent after getting another lecture from Joey on his poor performance in the loops and part of him was wondering what would happen if he just stayed there.

Then the door opened and someone stepped through. For a moment, Plush was scared it was Joey. But it wasn’t.

It was _**Henry**_.

He looked to be in his 20′s and was just as realistic as Joey was. It was like looking at a photograph. His left arm and legs looked a little funny, but Plush wasn’t really focusing on that. He was completely focused on the fact that he was standing in front of the real Henry. Because it had to be the real Henry. He looked so **_real_**!

“Henry?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah?” Henry asked, frowning slightly.

Plush sniffled loudly, his lip quivering. A whole storm of emotions raged inside his mind. On one hand, this was Henry! The real Henry! He was going to be rescued! On the other hand…It was crushing to realize how little he actually looked like Henry.

“Are you okay?” Henry asked.

“No,” Plush whimpered.

Henry’s expression softened and he knelt beside Plush, gathering him up in his arms. Plush was soft, like a stuffed toy, which made sense given what he was made out of.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said gently, patting Plush’s back.

After a few minutes of being hugged, the two separated and began the loop. For the first time in a long time, Plush actually felt hopeful. He had a friend! He had a chance at rescue!

“So, do you know what’s going on here?” Henry asked as the two of them went about collecting the items to put on the pedestals.

“Not…really,” Plush admitted.

“Hm.” Henry hummed, his eyebrows drawing down in a frown.

“Sorry,” Plush mumbled.

“No, it’s alright,” Henry assured him. “I guess that means you’re as confused as I am.” He laughed and Plush felt a bit better.

They continued along in the story, turning on the machine and running from the Demon. Henry managed to avoid getting taken out by Sammy, rescuing Plush before he was going to be sacrificed. The longer he spent with Henry, the more hopeful Plush became.

Although death still meant absolutely nothing to Plush. At least in the studio. That had been something that had horrified Henry the times it had come up, such as the Searcher mob in the Music Department. Since he was made out of a plush, when he was injured his body ripped like cloth, stuffing spilling out. Henry had panicked, asking what he could do to fix Plush.

“What’s the point in fixing me?” Plush had asked, confused. “I can just die and come back good as new.”

Henry had just stared at him when he’d said this, a look of pity and horror plastered across his face.

Plush had ended up dying in the second Searcher mob in the band room. He’d come back good as new, as he’d said he would, but the whole thing had still clearly unsettled Henry.

“You know, I don’t remember quitting,” Henry said.

At that point, he and Plush were in the middle of Alice’s errands. They’d gotten the gears and were working on acquiring the valve switches. They’d been forced to hide in Miracle Stations more than once due to how loud the valve puzzles were. Plush had taken great comfort in the feeling of Henry’s body against his in the station. Just knowing he wasn’t alone made him feel safe.

“You don’t?” Plush asked. His memories own were vague, more evidence of what a failure of a Henry he was, but he remembered up until Henry had left the studio.

“Yeah, I don’t,” Henry repeated, turning a valve and looking around to make sure no Searchers or Butcher Gang members had been alerted. “I think Joey mentioned something about it before he put me in here, but I don’t know what he was talking about.”

“Huh.” Now it was Plush’s turn to frown. That was strange. But, oh well. Joey had probably done something to Henry before shoving him in there. After all, Henry was probably in his 60′s and shouldn’t logically look in his 20′s.

“I don’t know how the studio got so decrepit, either,” Henry continued. “The last thing I remember, everything was going pretty well.”

Plush’s frown deepened further. However, he didn’t have much time to think about this as the telltale veins of the Ink Demon appeared on the walls and the pounding of a heart filled their ears. Plush ran for the Miracle Station, ducking inside.

Henry was too slow, though.

The Ink Demon appeared from a wall, reaching for him. One clawed hand found purchase in Henry’s body, slashing across it. And Henry…His body tore like paper. The Ink Demon tore him apart as easily as one would tear a photograph. The pieces that had once been Henry fell to the ground, sinking into the ink.

Even after the Ink Demon left, Plush remained in the Miracle Station. He felt like crying. He wasn’t going to be saved. That **hadn’t** been the real Henry. That was his replacement.

“Plush? What was that?” He heard the new Henry’s voice from his left, where the Bendy statue was. The point where he always respawned.

“We’re not getting out,” Plush whimpered from inside the Miracle Station. “We’re never getting out.”

“What are you talking about?” The Henry stopped outside of the Miracle Station. “What was that? It…It killed me. Why am I still here?”

“You’re not real either. You’re just like me,” Plush sniffled loudly, sobs threatening to tear through his body. The Henry was silent. Plush began to wail.

The hope was gone.

They were never getting out.


	5. Chapter 5

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: Photo is in denial, he's real, he knows he is! He has to be, right? But the more he looks back, the more he thinks about his memories, the more holes he finds, and the harder it is to run from the truth.**

I apologize if the quality declined here. I hope I did a good job.

* * *

The Henry, who Plush was now mentally referring to as Photo, refused to believe what Plush had said. He had to be real! He had to be! Plush had to be wrong about this. He wasn’t like Plush. He looked human. He felt human. So he had to be human, right?

Plush didn’t try to push the subject with him. He understood how devastating it was to realize you weren’t who you thought you were. There was nothing he could do to make Photo feel better about this. Photo had to sort his feelings out on his own. So, he kept going with Alice’s errands.

Photo followed him, although he was rather distracted by attempting to come up with proof that he was real. However, the more he probed his memories, the more unsure he felt. Although he could conjure up memories of his life, everything other than the day the studio had opened was hazy unless he thought hard about it. He certainly didn’t remember the studio taking a nosedive like this. In fact…the last thing he remembered was the night of an awards ceremony. After that it just…stopped. Then he’d woken up in Joey’s apartment.

What year had that award show been again? It had to have been sometime in the 30′s. He was pretty sure it had been their first award show and the studio had only opened in 1929. But the calendar he’d seen in Joey’s kitchen before he’d been shoved in here had said it was 1960 something. That had to be wrong, though. 30 years couldn’t have passed without him knowing.

He couldn’t remember Linda’s face either. He remembered her, of course. She was his girlfriend! How he could he forget her? But…he couldn’t remember her face. It was just a blur where her face should be.

“Hey.” He was startled out of his intense thought by Plush poking his arm.

“Uh, yeah?”

“We’ve got a new errand,” Plush said, holding an ax out to him. “We have to destroy the cutouts.”

“Oh. Okay.” Photo looked down at the ax in his hands. Plush had gotten another ax for himself from an office on level 9 that had previously been boarded up.

“What do you remember?” Photo asked as they entered the elevator.

“Hm?” Plush glanced over at him, pressing the button for level K.

“What do you remember?” Photo repeated. “About anything.”

The elevator began to move upward, although neither was focused on that.

“Um…” Plush screwed up his face in thought. “Well, I remember working here, I remember the faces of people I worked with, my house a little, but…not much else.” His face fell. “It’s all kind of fuzzy.”

“I see.” He felt rather ashamed that his first thought was that his own clear memories were proof of his own superiority.

The rest of the elevator ride was silent. When they reached level K, they both exchanged a nervous glance. Photo was nervous about possibly encountering the Ink Demon while Plush was just generally worried about Photo.

“Where do you think we should start?” Plush asked.

“Probably the end of the level,” Photo answered, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than his own anxieties. “We can work our way back from there so that when we break the last one we can just get in the elevator and go.”

“That sounds good.” Plush agreed.

They went with that plan, going to the floor entrance to start destroying the cutouts there. Despite his earlier determination that he would stay in the moment, Photo found his mind drifting back to his own fear over how real he was. As such, he didn’t notice the approach of the Ink Demon until it was too late.

By the time he finally heard Plush yelling at him to get into the Miracle Station the Ink Demon was already upon him. He turned and found himself face to face with the Demon. His breath caught in his throat as the Demon leered down at him and he found his body frozen. He could vaguely hear Plush screaming something, but he couldn’t make out any words.

The Demon reached for him with one disturbingly realistic hand, prompting Photo to instinctively put up one arm in defense. The demon responded by…

**_Ripping off his arm_.**

The Demon tore Photo’s arm off as easily as if it were paper, leaving only a stump behind. It was as though the wind had been knocked out of him. How…How had it done that?

Suddenly, he was being pushed out of the way by Plush, who put himself between Photo and the Demon. The Demon let out a strange reverberating laugh and swiped at Plush. Plush let out a whimper as he stumbled back, clutching at his stomach. Photo sprung into action, grabbing Photo with his good arm and dragging him back into the Miracle Station. His stump arm was leaking black sludge everywhere, black sludge that he didn’t want to admit was ink.

The Ink Demon tilted its head to the side, watching the Miracle Station. Eventually, though, it turned and walked away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Photo mumbled, holding Plush close to him.

“It’s okay,” Plush assured him. “I’ve gotten hurt before. I’m used to it.”

“But it was my fault! You got hurt because of me!”

“You got hurt too.” Plush pointed to the stump where Photo’s arm had been. Photo looked down at his stump, terror rising in his heart again.

“How…How do I fix it?” He asked, finding it hard to push out the words.

“We can fix you with clean ink, but that’s pretty hard to come by,” Plush replied. “Or you could just…die.”

Once again, Photo looked horrified at that suggestion.

“I promise it doesn’t hurt that much. You’ll come back.” Plush gave him a big smile like there was nothing wrong.

Photo kept staring at him. The thought of dying still terrified him. But Plush was right. The last time he’d died to the Demon he’d just formed back at the Bendy statue.

“What do I need to do to fix **you** up?” He asked.

“Me?” Plush frowned, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“Yes, you. What do I need to do to fix you?”

“Well, you’d need clean ink, a needle, and thread,” Plush said. “But it’s fine, I can just-”

“No. I’m not letting you die.” Photo shook his head, patting Plush’s head the way a father would do to his child. “I’m…I’m going to come back and I’m going to fix you.”

And so he did. He left the Miracle Station, instructing Plush to stay inside until he returned. Plush did as he was told, staying inside until Photo opened the door again, with both of his arms again.

“I’ve got the needle and thread,” he said. “But you’ll need to tell me how to find clean ink.”

Plush stared him, eyes wide and open. That awe he’d felt when he’d first seen Photo came back in an instant.

“Okay,” he whispered.

It was a bit difficult to find clean ink, but they did in the end. When they had the clean ink, Photo took Plush down to level 9 and began to fix him up. Plush had to admit, it was nice. Photo might not have been the best at sewing, but being lovingly repaired felt so good. It was new and strange, but not in a bad way.

Plush was realizing that he didn’t want to die anymore. He no longer welcomed the day Joey scrapped him. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to stay with Photo. He didn’t want to be forgotten. Not anymore.


	6. Good End

**[missmangos-wonderland](https://missmangos-wonderland.tumblr.com/) asked: I just got another idea for the lookalikes au! At the end of photos first loop, joey is preparing to scrap plush for good, and then the real actual henry walks in, surprising all parties involved. Hed brought his grandson (named after his grandpa of course) because the grandkid is a huge fan of the bendy cartoons. Queue old man henry beating joey up with a cane for being a fuckwit asshole and rescuing plush and photo**

It’s what Joey deserves.

* * *

“Well, despite your deaths,” Joey said, looking over Photo. “You did perform better than _this_ one.” He let his gaze drift over to the cowering form of Plush before continuing. “So, I think you’ll make a fine replacement.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Photo asked.

He and Plush had just completed their loop and been spat back out into Joey’s office. Joey had greeted him like an old friend. Like Photo hadn’t just gone through an existential crisis. Like Photo hadn’t just **died** multiple times. The sight of Joey’s smug face made Photo want to slug him. Especially after the loop he’d spent with Plush. Joey had traumatized Plush with those damned to the point that he no longer feared death.

“Scrap him.” Joey shrugged and made a dismissive gesture. “He’s no longer useful.”

“Like Hell you are!” Photo snapped, taking a step toward Joey. “You’re not going to do anything to him!”

Plush just stood there. He’d been waiting for this moment for years. For it to finally end. But…He wasn’t happy about it. Not anymore. Because if he was gone, Photo would be all alone. He didn’t want Photo to be all alone. Photo had only been through one loop and he’d handled it spectacularly poorly. These loops would break him, Plush was sure of it.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Photo growled.

“Sure.” Joey chuckled, shaking his head. His tone was so dismissive, his expression so condescending. Like he was talking to a child. It made Photo see red.

“This ends now!” Photo yelled. “You’re not scrapping him and you’re not sending me back into that fucking hellhole!”

“You really think you can hurt me?” Joey leaned on his counter and laughed darkly. “I **made** you. And I can unmake you if I need to.” His smile dropped. “You are disposable. You keep this little tantrum up and I’ll scrap you both.”

Photo’s hands formed into fists at his side and he opened his mouth to continue yelling at Joey.

That was when the front door opened. Photo’s voice died in his throat at the sound of the front door lock clicking open.

“Joey? You here?” A man’s voice called out. Joey froze, the color draining from his face.

“Maybe he’s in the kitchen,” a boy’s voice piped up.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” The man laughed and heavy footfalls approached the kitchen.

All three of them turned to see who it was. The man standing in the doorway was in his 60′s and built like a brick wall. Age had done nothing to diminish his powerful form and he still looked as though he could conceivably wrestle a bear. At least to Plush. Because he was certain of who this man was.

This was Henry. The **real** Henry. Henry had come to save them, just as Plush had always known he would.

For a moment, Henry looked puzzled at the sight of Plush and Photo. Soon, though, a cold sort of anger descended over his features. A small and skinny boy peeked out from behind him. Judging from the familiar features, he must have been Henry’s grandson.

“Joey,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “What. The. Hell?” He looked five seconds away from exploding.

“Henry!” Joey’s voice went up an octave as he smiled nervously. “So soon? I wasn’t expecting you for an hour yet!”

“Traffic was good,” Henry said, his expression unchanging. “You didn’t answer my question.”

The little boy watched Photo and Plush curiously, still hiding behind Henry’s solid form.

“You want to know what he did?” Photo asked with a malicious grin.

“Yes, I would.” Henry’s gaze never left Joey, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

“He made us as replacements for you,” Photo gestured to himself and Plush. “Tampered with our memories, then shoved us into some horror-show version of the studio to play out his story over and over again until he gets bored of us. That bastard was going to scrap Plush because he got tired of him!” He pointed at Plush again. “He’s not even afraid of dying anymore because of all the times he died in that place!

Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned back to his grandson, giving him a warm smile.

“Why don’t you go wait outside with these two, okay?” He said. “I have to talk about some stuff with Uncle Joey.”

“Did Uncle Joey do something bad?” The boy asked, looking at Plush and Photo.

“Yes, he did. Which is why I need to talk to him.”

“Okay.” The boy nodded. He ran over, grabbing Plush and Photo’s hands and dragging them outside.

As soon as they were outside and the door closed behind them, they could hear Henry beginning to yell.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Henry, I-”

“No, you know what? I don’t want to hear it. Nothing you can say will justify any of this.”

Plush clung to Photo, still a bit unsure, but from where he stood he tried to take everything in. It was all so colorful. He’d given up hope that he would ever get to see the outside world.

“The sky is so beautiful,” he said.

“Yeah.” Photo followed his gaze, allowing himself to smile softly. “It is.”

“Um…What are your names?”

Photo and Plush returned their attention to the moment and to the boy in front of them. He looked a little nervous to be alone with them, but also rather curious.

“We don’t really have names,” Photo replied. “But he calls himself Plush and I started calling myself Photo.”

“You don’t…have names?” Henry Jr. frowned. “Why?”

“No one ever gave us any,” Photo said. “Well, aside from Joey calling us Henry. But we’re not him, so we’re not going to use his name.” His lip curled up in disgust at the memory of Joey. He hoped Henry was kicking his ass.

“Oh.” Henry Jr.’s frown turned into an expression of concern. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Plush smiled shyly.

“You’re welcome.” Henry Jr. walked awkwardly over and hugged them. Photo stiffened a bit but didn’t push the boy away. Plush pretty much melted into the hug.

“You’re really soft,” Henry Jr. said with a smile, rubbing his hand on Plush’s arm. “Perfect for hugging.”

“Thank you!” Plush immediately lit up, hugging Henry Jr. back as hard as he could.

Photo looked back at the door to Joey’s apartment. The yelling had petered off a bit, but he could still hear Henry chewing Joey out. He couldn’t make out many of the words, but Henry certainly sounded angry. There was also the sound of what he assumed to be Henry destroying the miniature Ink Machine.

It was nearly half an hour before Henry finally exited the apartment, during which time Henry Jr. and Plush happily talked to each other. He looked disheveled, his clothes and hair mussed and stained with grease. Joey was trailing behind him, a rather impressive shiner developing on his left eye.

“Henry, please, you can’t just take them,” he whined. Photo almost started to laugh. The great Joey Drew, whining like a child. It was music to his ears.

“I can and I will,” Henry snapped. “Junior, we’re leaving.”

Henry Jr. looked between his grandfather and Joey and immediately nodded.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging on Plush’s hand.

“We’re…leaving?” Plush’s voice was hushed in awe. They were actually leaving. Henry’s expression softened.

“Yeah, we’re leaving,” he said.

“When we get to grandpa’s house, I can show you my room,” Henry Jr. said as he led Plush toward the car.

“I can’t wait!” Plush was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Got any last words for him?” Henry asked, glancing at Photo.

“I do.” Photo turned to Joey, lifting both his hands up to flip Joey off twice. “Go fuck yourself.” Then he allowed Henry to lead him to the car as well.

Joey was left in the doorway to his apartment, with a broken Ink Machine and a black eye.


	7. Bad End

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: Sorry I didn't ask first this time I was about to fall asleep when I got this idea and I just need to get it down. In a darker timeline Henry doesn't show up to save Plush and Photo, and instead Photo ends up thrown into the loop alone. Plush isn't destroyed right away however, instead Joey has him watch his new friend grieve him throughout his first loop all alone**

Aaaw. These poor boys.

Here’s the [good ending](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/612174257314725888/i-just-got-another-idea-for-the-lookalikes-au-at) for those who didn’t see it.

* * *

It began the same. 

Photo was deemed Plush’s replacement and Plush was set to be scrapped. Photo lashed out, refusing to let Joey do that to his friend. Joey laughed at the idea that Photo could do anything to hurt him. There was no Henry to save them this time, though. Joey said the words that would start the story,

_If you’re in town, you should come by the old studio. There’s something I want to show you._

Photo’s body went rigid, as though he’d received an electric shock. Then he turned stiffly and went through the door into the studio. Plush had found himself frozen as soon as Joey had announced Photo would be his replacement. As soon as the door closed, though, he crumpled to the ground and began to sob.

“Now, don’t fall apart on me.” Joey picked him up by the back of his shirt. “There’s still something I need from you, son.”

He dragged Plush into the living room and flipped on the television, revealing Photo in the entryway of the studio.

Photo was banging on the door, screaming at the top of his lungs for Joey to let him back in and not to hurt Plush. But no matter how hard he banged, no matter how loud he yelled, none of it pierced the apartment. 

Plush cried even harder at seeing Photo’s emotional agony. Joey stood behind Plush with a smug smirk on his face.

Eventually, Photo stopped in his attempts to get Joey to open the door, sinking to the ground and beginning to cry as well. He sat there for a long time, just crying. Joey clicked his tongue in irritation, going to his desk and beginning to scribble on some of the storyboard pages. Plush wasn’t going anywhere. No need to keep a hand on him.

Once again, Photo’s body was moved by some unseen force. He got up and headed for the Ink Machine room to begin the story properly. Photo struggled as best he could, screaming and fighting it every step of the way. But it was no use. Joey was in control.

“There we go,” Joey said, glancing back at the television. “Everything’s in motion now.”

“Please, stop,” Plush begged.

“Stop what?” Joey asked innocently.

“Don’t make me watch this, please,” Plush said. “Just scrap me already!”

“I don’t think so.” Joey gave him a patronizing smile and a pat on the head. “You need to see how a proper Henry conducts himself in the story.”

And so Joey forced Plush to sit and watch as Photo made his way through the story. At first, Photo continued to rail against Joey. He tried to fight the story, tried to get back to Plush. He yelled, broke things, refused to move from certain locations.

But Joey didn’t let him go off-script.

Every time Photo tried to deviate, Joey went to his desk and forced Photo to follow his rules, making him dance on his puppet strings.

Soon enough, Photo became resigned. Detached.

He didn’t see what the point was in trying to fight it anymore. He wasn’t going to escape. He wasn’t going to get out. He was doomed. Plush was gone forever. He was well and truly alone. 

So he continued on robotically, barely registering anything that was going on. Maybe, if he was lucky, Joey would scrap him too.

On the outside, as had happened the last time Plush had been outside the studio for a long time, he began to melt. Plush was almost relieved. If he melted, he’d be dead. He wouldn’t have to watch this anymore.

But Joey had other plans.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Joey said with a grin. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

The “repair” job he did on Plush was half-assed at best. All he really did was add in some fresh ink to off-set the ink that was melting off of Plush. He did this every time it seemed Plush was close to death. He wasn’t going to let Plush die until the poor copy had seen the whole loop.

Plush watched as Photo was beaten and broken and killed over and over. He watched and cried. And Joey just kept smiling.


	8. Bad End 2

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: A continuation of the dark timeline! Photo arives at the end of the loop, only to find Plush isn't dead just yet. His hopes are raised only to be crushed by Joey yet again**

Poor kiddos

Here’s the previous[ bad end story.](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/612871505052844032/sorry-i-didnt-ask-first-this-time-i-was-about-to)

* * *

Photo had expected that upon finishing the loop, he’d be greeted with Joey’s smirking face. Joey would gloat and be a general ass and send him back into another soul-crushing loop to act out his story until he was satisfied.

There was no point in fighting anymore. His hope was gone. Plush was dead.

Instead, when he finished the loop, he was greeted by both Joey **and** Plush. For a moment, Photo’s heart swelled. Plush was still alive! His friend was alive! But his joy quickly subsided when he took in the state his friend was in.

Plush was basically a puddle at this point, his body ill-defined as his ink sloughed off of him. His face was half-melted and his lack of limbs made Photo flash back to his awakening on Joey’s makeshift operating table. It was a horrifying sight that sent shivers down Photo’s spine and made him wonder if that would happen to him at some point.

Upon seeing Photo, Plush tried to call out to him. But his mouth was nothing more than a gaping hole, the ink too melted to work properly to produce words. All that came out was a garbled moan.

“You did a fine job this round,” Joey said, his tone almost conversational. He didn’t even acknowledge Plush’s distress.

“What did you do to him?!” Photo roared, rushing to Plush’s side.

“I didn’t **do** anything.” Joey looked rather irritated at the fact that Photo was ignoring him in favor of Plush. “His body just melts when it’s outside the studio.”

“Why did you keep him here, then?!” Photo demanded.

Plush winced at Photo’s yelling, undulating his body to get closer to Photo.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Photo whispered, wrapping his arms around Plush. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Plush made a mournful noise, pressing his face against Photo’s chest.

“He needed to see how a proper Henry conducts himself,” Joey replied testily. “Just leave him be and he’ll be a puddle soon.” He waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for Photo follow him into the kitchen so they could do the usual song and dance.

But Photo didn’t move.

He remained kneeling beside Plush, holding him close. There was murder in his disturbingly realistic eyes.

“You’re a monster,” he growled.

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” Joey let out a sharp barking laugh. “Oh, son, you’ve got to do better than that.”

“I don’t need to do better.” Photo’s voice was colder and calmer than it had been before. “I’ve seen all kinds of monsters in that studio, but none of them have been worse than you.”

Joey took an involuntary step back, inhaling sharply. For a moment, he was face to face with the real Henry Stein. He was back in his office on the night Henry had quit as Henry ripped into him for the way Joey had treated him.

And, as Joey often did when he felt threatened, he lashed out.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way!” He yelled, slamming a fist against his desk.

Both Photo and Plush recoiled at Joey’s anger. They’d seen him angry before, but never like this.

“You are nothing!” Joey screamed, his face contorted in rage. “You have **always** been nothing! You will always **be** nothing! You’re just cheap copies!”

He stalked toward the two of them, his entire body shaking.

“I should scrap you both,” he snarled as he stood over them. “Maybe the next one I make will actually have some manners.

Photo held his gaze, although his body was shaking as well. In his case, out of fear. He couldn’t back down. He wasn’t going to grovel to Joey and beg for mercy. If he and Plush got scrapped, at least they’d get scrapped together.


	9. Good End 2

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: On the way home, Plush starts to melt in Henry's arms, panic ensues.**

Looks like they’re headed back to Joey’s.

Here’s the last [good end story](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/612174257314725888/i-just-got-another-idea-for-the-lookalikes-au-at).

* * *

Halfway back to Henry’s house, Plush began to melt.

Henry had been rather concerned when he heard Henry Jr. and Photo start to scream in the backseat. So much so he’d nearly pulled over the car right then and there.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked. “Why are you screaming?”

“Plush is melting!” Photo yelled.

Everyone in the back seat was thrown forward as Henry slammed on the brakes. He then immediately turned the car around and headed back to Joey’s apartment.

In the back seat, Photo was holding Plush to his chest as his body began to melt, the ink sloughing off of him in waves. Henry Jr. was frozen in his own seat, eyes wide as he beheld the horrifying sight in front of him. It was disturbing even for those who were used to it, and Henry Jr. was most certainly **not** used to it.

Henry Jr. hadn’t gone into this expecting to see something that looked straight out of a horror movie. Henry was pretty sure he was going to get chewed out for letting his grandson see something like this, but that thought was secondary.

They pulled up outside Joey’s apartment and Henry scrambled out of the car, Photo close behind with Plush held in his arms. There was a lot of melted ink on the upholstery of the back seat as well as all over Photo.

“Joey! Open up!” Henry roared, pounding on Joey’s door. It only took a moment or two for the door to swing open. Joey had a bag of frozen peas held over his black eye.

“Back so soon?” He smiled slightly, as if he were hopeful Henry was there to make amends. His smile quickly faded, however, when he saw Photo holding the melting Plush and the shaky Henry Jr. behind them. “Oh.”

“Why is he melting?!” Henry demanded.

“His body melts when it’s away from the studio for too long,” Joey said with a shrug. “The same thing will happen to the other one in a week or two.” He gestured with his free hand to Photo.

“And why is that?” Henry asked through gritted teeth.

“So they won’t run,” Joey replied brightly.

“Because you did a crap job making us,” Photo corrected him.

Henry sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How do I fix him?”

“Putting him back in the studio should work just fine,” Joey said. “Especially since you broke the Ink Machine and cut off the ink I was using to fix him when outside the studio.” There was a sinister look of satisfaction in his eyes that made both Photo and Henry’s blood boil.

“Any other options?” Henry growled.

Joey’s sinister expression morphed into something that looked rather like a childish pout. “Well, I suppose you could always give up some pieces of your soul to make their forms more stable.”

“I’ll do it,” Henry answered without a second thought.

“You don’t need to do that,” Photo said while Plush tried to protest while his mouth was literally melting away.

“I’m doing it.” Henry’s voice left little room for argument. “Come on.” He gently pushed Joey to the side, gesturing for Plush and Photo to follow him inside. Henry Jr. got out of the car and followed, not wanting to stay alone with the castoff in from Plush’s body.

Plush, Photo, Henry, and Joey went into the room that still held the remains of the Ink Machine and the door was shut. Henry Jr. went to get himself some orange juice to drink.

Henry ended up drawing up a model sheet for Plush, a new form so that he would be able to put his horrifying past at the studio behind him. The form Henry chose for Plush was one that leaned on the more cartoony side. He wouldn’t look like Henry anymore. He’d look like himself. Joey walked him through the process of imbuing part of his soul into Plush, and Henry began to put him back together.

It was actually rather comforting for Photo to watch. The care Henry showed as he shaped Plush’s ink was kindness neither Plush nor Photo had ever been shown by people outside of each other. Plush felt safe and warm as Henry worked on him, molding his ink as though he were a sculptor molding clay.

And then, finally, when Plush’s body was complete and whole once more, Henry painted on his face. It tickled a little as he did so.

“Alright. I’m done,” Henry said, standing back. Plush blinked his new pie-cut eyes open. Then Photo swept him up in a tight hug. He’d been so worried.

“I’ll come back when Photo starts to melt,” Henry said, not even looking at Joey. His focus was on the two now overjoyed creatures. It brought a smile to his face, seeing them so happy.

“Alright.” Joey looked even smaller now, stripped of his power.

Henry left after that, taking Plush, Photo, and Henry Jr. with him.


	10. Nightmares

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: I'm sorry to throw another lookalikes AU Prompt at you, and a vague one at that, but while resting in the studio, maybe in the safe house with photo, what do you suppose Plush dreams about?**

Nothing good, I imagine.

* * *

Plush didn’t dream.

Well, that wasn’t true exactly. He didn’t have happy dreams. Or, he could never remember the happy dreams. The dreams he most often remembered having were nightmares. It was hard to forget them, after all. Especially when every detail was so often seared into his mind.

His nightmares were plagued by the monsters he was forced to face in the studio, visions of horrifying creatures that he could never escape no matter how hard he tried. Running from the Projectionist, being chased down by the Ink Demon both in its normal form and its beastlike one, fighting Brute Boris, being taunted by Malice, trying to escape that creature in the river. Those nightmares were scary in the moment, while he was dreaming of running from the monsters, but those weren’t the nightmares he truly feared. They were like extensions of his torment in the studio. He was used to them. They were predictable, comfortable even.

The nightmares that truly terrified him were the ones featuring Joey.

In those nightmares, he relived every torturous encounter with Joey. The threats, the abuse, all of Joey’s attempts to modify him to resemble the **real** Henry. He felt every stitch, every cut, every time Joey plunged his hands into Plush’s insides. Joey’s voice, Joey’s laugh, Joey’s rough and uncaring touch.

Those were the nightmares that left Plush shaken for days afterward.

In the past, Plush had been alone when he’d awoken from his nightmares. Now, though, he had Photo. When he woke up screaming from a Joey nightmare this time, Photo was there for him.

As soon as he saw Plush sit up screaming, he was at the younger clone’s side. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Plush didn’t say anything, just turning and burying his face in Photo’s chest. Photo didn’t hesitate, holding Plush close to him.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, stroking Plush’s hair. “I’m here.”

Plush kept wailing, gripping Photo’s shirt tighter. It felt good to have someone holding him while he cried. He’d never had that before.

He cried for a good half an hour before he finally calmed down. Photo held him the whole time, assuring Plush that it was alright and he was there.

“Are you okay?” Photo asked when Plush stopped crying.

“No,” Plush said. “But I feel a little better now.”

“Okay.” Photo nodded. He laid down, opening his arm so that Plush could sleep cuddled up to him. Plush gladly took the opportunity, snuggling up against Photo. As he tried to fall asleep, he listened to Photo’s heartbeat, his even breathing. It made him feel safe and warm.

He didn’t have any more nightmares that night.


	11. Playing In The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plush gets a chance to play in the rain. Photo is...less than pleased.

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: I'm sorry I'm sorry I just HAD to add this after our recent conversation. Plush and Photo's first rainstorm**

This is gonna be really cute.

* * *

Photo and Plush had both reacted to being out of Joey’s grasp rather differently.

Plush was delighted to be away from Joey, taking to the outside world with unrestrained joy. He’d had a long time to come to terms with who and what he was. He was comfortable with not being Henry and happy to figure out who he was. He got to be a little kid for the first time in his life. He was happier than he’d ever been before.

Photo, however, was having a harder time. He was hyper-aware of the fact that he wasn’t human and was incredibly uncomfortable with that fact. This discomfort was increased by the fact that he now resided in Henry’s home. Photo was face to face every day with the man he’d once thought he was. It made for one hell of an identity crisis. So, he tried not to think of it.

Instead, he focused on protecting Plush. Although Plush was technically older than him, Photo was clearly the older sibling. He was incredibly protective over Plush, trying to keep an eye on him at all times. Plush was protective of him in turn but in a more passive sense. He didn’t want to spend every moment worrying about Photo. Photo thought about it all the time.

.

One day, a few months after they’d escaped, it rained. Plush was overjoyed. He’d never seen rain in person before.

“This is so cool!” He squealed, mushing his face against the glass of the window. His eyes were wide and sparkling with childlike wonder.

Photo watched from behind him, an uneasy expression painted across his features. Given that he’d been made from a photograph, he had some rather paper-like qualities. He and water didn’t agree. No matter how easy Henry had assured him that it would be to fix him if he got soaked or ripped, Photo was still terrified.

“You wanna go play in the puddles?” Junior asked Plush. His parents had dropped him off at Henry’s house for the day, as they often did when they had to work.

“I’m not sure that’s such a go-” Photo began to say, but he was cut off by Plush exclaiming,

“YES!”

“Cool!” Junior gave Plush a huge grin. “C’mon!”

Before Photo could stop them, the two of them were running out the door to go splash in the puddles.

“Don’t leave the door open!” Henry called from the kitchen. “You’ll let the rain in!”

Photo scrambled to the front door, watching in horror as Plush and Junior splashed about. The two of them jumped in the puddles lining the sidewalk, trying to see who could make the biggest splash. Their feet and legs were certainly getting soaked from all the splashing and the pouring rain was soaking the rest of them.

Thankfully it was a summer rain, so they didn’t have to worry about getting cold, but that did nothing to assuage Photo’s fears.

“Come back in!” He yelled. “You don’t know what that’ll do to you!”

Plush ignored him, getting wetter and wetter as he ran about with Junior. Photo’s nails were digging into the palms of his hands as he watched. Something bad was going to happen. He just knew something bad was going to happen. They were made of ink. Ink didn’t mix with water. This couldn’t end well.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked, walking up behind Photo. Photo couldn’t even say anything. He was too preoccupied with his fear.

“We’re just playing, Grandpa!” Junior called back to Henry. Plush waved to him, still grinning. Photo could tell he was starting to get a bit waterlogged, which only made him even more worried.

“Don’t play for too long,” Henry said. “Dinner’ll be ready soon and you’ll need to change before then. I don’t want you eating in wet clothes.”

“He’s getting waterlogged,” Photo managed to say, pointing to Plush. “That can’t be okay. He can’t be okay!”

“Mm.” Henry followed Photo’s pointing finger. “Maybe I should get him some boots.”

“He can’t be okay!” Photo repeated, his voice rising.

“He’s going to be fine,” Henry assured him gently. “He’s made out of a plush toy. Water doesn’t hurt them. It might be a little hard to get him dry, but he’ll be fine.”

Photo made a small noise of disbelief and irritation, gesturing again to Plush.

“He’ll be fine,” Henry repeated, putting a hand on Photo’s shoulder. “And if he’s not, I’ll make sure he’s okay. Alright?”

“I…Alright.” Photo let his shoulders slump, returning his gaze to Plush.

When Junior and Plush came in from their session, Plush proceeded to do something that horrified Photo even more. He started to wring himself out the same way one would a wet piece of fabric. Photo just stared at him, terror and fear plain on his face.

“It’s fine,” Plush assured him upon noticing his expression. “It’s not like I have any bones.” He said this completely calmly as if this was completely normal. For them it sort of was.

Still, it wasn’t a sight that Photo particularly liked. He liked Henry’s suggestion to put Plush in the dryer to get him dry even less.


	12. Stuffing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry gives Plush some new stuffing

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: ** **I know I said I'd give you a break but I can't hold back anymore. Plush doesn't wring himself out as well as he thought after that rainstorm and ends up getting a little mold and getting sick. No one is quite sure what's wrong with the poor kid, Henry gets him fixed up :)**

Poor Plush. Also, this is gonna get gross again. ^^”

Here’s the [rainstorm](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/614632968281030656/im-sorry-im-sorry-i-just-had-to-add-this-after) story.

* * *

Evidently, Plush hadn’t wrung himself out as effectively as he’d thought he had. Because a few days later, he started to feel…sick. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling sick, or even how he knew what it was supposed to feel like, but he was feeling something. It was a horrible feeling. A feeling that made him want to throw up.

Plush was terrified. He’d never lived long enough to deal with long term consequences due to how much he’d died while in the studio. His first instinct was to kill himself so that he would come back feeling better. But he couldn’t do that anymore. There was no guarantee he’d come back if he died while out here. He knew he’d worry Photo and Henry too.

He wanted to ask Henry for help, but he also didn’t want to bother him. So, he tried to hide his discomfort. He wasn’t doing a good job of it, as both Henry and Photo kept asking him if he was alright. Every time, he said that he was fine.

He wasn’t fooling them, though. He could tell.

“You know, you could use some new stuffing,” Henry remarked at breakfast one day.

“H-Huh?” For a moment, fear gripped Plush’s heart. Did Henry know?

“What are you talking about?” Photo asked, frowning.

“Well, he’s looking a bit flat.” Henry gestured to Plush. “He could use some new stuffing to fluff him up again. Plus, your stuffing’s probably getting kinda dirty judging by the smell.” He smiled warmly at Plush, which eased the copy’s anxieties a bit.

“I…I guess that’s right,” Plush admitted, although still fidgeting. He was starting to smell a little strange.

“Are you sure?” Photo’s frown deepened. He’d heard what Joey had done to Plush. He hadn’t thought Plush would let anyone put their hands in his insides anymore.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Henry added. “I get it if you don’t want me rummaging around inside of you.”

“N-No, it’s okay!” Plush insisted. “I-I think I could use some new stuffing.”

Photo didn’t look at all convinced but didn’t push it. He took Plush’s hand under the table, squeezing it comfortingly. Plush smiled nervously at him, trying to stay calm.

This would be okay, he told himself. It would be fine. Henry wasn’t like Joey. It would be fine.

.

It was not fine.

Plush kept getting more and more nervous about Henry replacing his stuffing. He remembered all the times Joey had rummaged around in his insides, trying to make him “perfect”. He knew Henry was different. He knew Henry wasn’t like Joey.

But what if he was?

What if it was just Joey all over again?

What if Henry had only been pretending to be nice?

The ‘what if’ questions swirled round and round in his mind to the point where when Henry finally sat him down on the living room couch to do it, Plush was so scared he was literally shaking.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Henry asked gently. He had borrowed Linda’s sewing kit, which sat beside him on the couch, as well as the large bag of stuffing he'd picked up from the craft store.

“I-I’m fine,” Plush squeaked. “Y-You’re right, I-I need replace my s-stuffing.”

“I don’t want to do it if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to add to your bad memories.” Henry’s voice was soft. He sat far enough away that Plush didn’t feel uncomfortable. Far enough that he couldn’t suddenly grab Plush.

“It’s fine,” Plush repeated, trying to take a few breaths.

Henry’s brow furrowed in a frown. Still, he put on his reading glasses and pulled out a pair of scissors. Slowly, carefully, he cut the threads holding Plush’s chest closed. Opening Plush’s chest, he was assaulted with a frankly foul smell. Henry lurched back, gagging.

“What? What’s wrong?” Plush asked.

“Your stuffing’s gotten pretty moldy, bud,” Henry answered, holding his shirt over his nose.

Plush’s previously pristine white stuffing was coated in a film of black and green and blue, which let off a frankly horrible stench.

“Oh…I’m sorry.” Plush hunched his shoulders, drawing away.

“It’s fine, just give me a second.” Henry got up, heading into the kitchen. When he returned he wore a bandanna over his nose and mouth and had a garbage bag in his hand.

He sat back down on the couch, beginning to gently but quickly toss the stuffing into the garbage bag. Plush supposed the mold was why he’d been feeling so awful. He still didn’t like the feeling of someone putting their hands inside him, but at least Henry was better about it than Joey.

Joey had always been rough when he’d dug around in Plush, never caring if he hurt Plush. Henry was careful and gentle, going as quickly as he could while still being considerate about the fact that he was digging around in Plush. He stopped every so often, asking if Plush was alright.

Plush nodded and assured him it was fine. The more dirty stuffing Henry removed, the better he felt.

Then Henry got to Plush’s heart.

Plush’s heart, which resembled a cartoon heart and was made of red fabric, needed to be removed so that the old stuffing could be taken out and new stuffing could be put in. Which meant Henry had to touch it.

Now, Plush couldn’t normally feel things, at least not in the way ordinary humans could. He could still process when he was being touched or when someone was holding him, but they were vague sensations. His body was, for the most part, pretty numb.

His heart was the exception. His heart was the most sensitive part of him. But he couldn’t feel touch with it. He felt emotions.

And when Henry handled Plush’s heart, he could feel the love coming from the older man. He could feel how much Henry truly genuinely cared about it. It was almost enough to make him start crying.

Photo and Henry had both shown him love and kindness in the past, but Plush had never felt it before. Not like this.

“Are you alright?” Henry asked, pausing as he pulled the heart out.

“Um, yeah,” Plush whispered, his voice shaky. “K-Keep going.”

Henry gave him a strange look, then shrugged and went back to it.

It took Henry nearly an hour to remove all the dirty stuffing and replace it with new stuffing. Once he was finished and had sewed Plush back up, replacing Plush’s heart once all the stuffing was in, Plush was feeling significantly better and looking significantly fluffier.

“How do you feel?” Henry asked.

“Great!” Plush replied. “I feel so much better!” He bounced up and down on the couch with a huge smile on his face.

“I’m glad.” Henry smiled back. “Why don’t you go find Photo? I’m sure he’s been worried sick this whole time.”

Plush nodded, bounding off to find Photo and show him how much better he looked. Henry, meanwhile, went to go get rid of the moldy stuffing.


	13. I Can't Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey decides to try fusing the Plush, Photo, and Parrot  
> (This chapter was written by Mango)

Joey doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong! Two attempts straight, and they both do  _ some  _ things right, but not everything. It’s almost like there’s… missing… pieces.

He avoids looking at the cut-up photograph he’d used to ponder the recorder he’d stolen out of the story. The holes missing seem to add up together, and maybe…

He gets an idea.

Joey adds a new room to their story, a room that is meant to trap the fakes. It takes some rewiring the exit door to the door on the ledge of the pit. It’s meant to slowly go up in temperature over time.

He needs to melt them down and skim up the remains to see where he went wrong and see if his theory is true. He hefts the recorder again before pocketing it.

=🌢=

Plush is beginning to freak out. This room! It was never there before! He panics and shuffles in place, but Photo lays a hand on his shoulder, offering a level stare. “We’ll see if there’s a way around or through, okay?”   
  
“Y-yeah. I’ll go first.” Plush offers - insists, really. “There weren’t path offshoots. This was… supposed to be the room with the carrier going over the big bottom. It’s just… a narrow room with a pit just deep enough for us not to get out.”

Photo ponders this grimly. “... think it’s a trap?”

“Why would Joey make a trap?! Is-is he sick of the story?”

“I have no idea. I’ll go first,  _ not _ you.”    
  
“But-”

“No protests. You’re falling apart.” Photo’s face softens in a rare bout of sentiment. Plush can’t bring himself to say no. 

Photo gently lets himself drop into the pool of ink. “... It’s warm.”

Next thing he knows, Plush splashes next to him, getting ink all over him. “Hey, careful.”

“Sorry. You were right, this  _ is _ warm. It’s… kind of nice.”

"We shouldn't linger. Climb on my shoulders, then pull me up."

Plush clambers onto Photo's shoulders and immediately gets blindsided by Joey standing there.

"Hello, failures." 

Photo loses his balance in shock and falls flat on his back onto the rising, heating ink. “Plush!” he calls out, checking on the stuffing-filled clone.

"How apt of a moniker. Did it take you long to come up with that one?" Joey teases, sitting in the wheelchair he's brought with him, hefting a recorder into his lap. He presses play. Henry’s voice calls out and makes the two clones pause.   
  
“ _ It-it’s useless to escape. The other door is locked, and Joey… Joey’s here to make sure you two melt. Please, please don’t fight it. It’ll just make Joey want you to suffer more. _ ”   
  
Plush and Photo share a wordless look, already seeing one another beginning to melt. Plush is worse off because of his prior condition and his falling ass-backward into the rising ink. Joey smirks. He stands up, hefting the talking recorder in his hand. It’s still playing, though no sound is coming out. He seems to weigh the recorder in his palm, leaning on his cane heavily.   
  
After a small sob from the speaker and Photo backing away from the ledge, Joey tips the recorder into the now hot ink. Instantly, a ghostly figure appears where the recorder sank making a mad grab for Photo in desperation. The faint hands leave deep grooves in the nearly-origami shoulders of the false man, and both scream in pain. Plush forces himself up to wade over, looking like he’d just had a stroke with the way half his face is drooping. He hugs Photo from behind, ignoring the sting of the ink and how unbearably hot this pool is becoming.   
  
“ _ I’m sorry! _ ” the recorder man shrieks, bowing his head. “ _ It-it hurts so much! _ ”

Photo cups the ghostly face with melting, deforming hands and stares into those spooling eyes.   
  
“We’ll come back. We always do.”

Joey sits serenely above, watching the three failures melt into ink. He almost wishes it weren’t so painful, but he needed the raw essence of their pieces to properly mix them. The room fills with screaming in pain as the ink begins to boil until it painfully, horrifyingly, begins to quiet down. Joey limps towards the pond skimmer to fish around for anything solid in the ink. He manages to unearth three faintly glowing, glasslike objects and pockets them. He sits in his wheelchair and leaves the room, erasing it from the story smoothly. Now to get the ink and let the three strange baubles manifest a form together.

=🌢=

They wake up in pain. Their mind buzzes with fuzzy memories until a face swims into view.   
  
“T-the clones!” he calls out, sitting up painfully. He winces and presses a hand to his throat. “... It hurts…”    
  
His mind swims, fishing for memories and only finding flashes of yellow.

Then he realizes. 

The pit. Photo and Plush!   
  
His mind and chest stir in response to the names, and a sinking feeling forces a lump in his throat. He curls in a ball, guarding his head as he shivers violently.   
  
“ _ What did he  _ _ do  _ _ to us?...” _


	14. The Beginning Of Parrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey finds a copy he hadn't previously known about. One trapped in a tape recorder

**[liliflower137](https://liliflower137.tumblr.com/) asked: ** **A voice wakes up alone in a dark room, he's alone for a long long time, only getting occasional vists every couple of loops. Until one day Joey pulls him out of the story. Desperate not to go back to being along, the voice begs Joey to let him stay. At first, he's delighted to finally have someone to talk to, but soon... he starts to regret his decision**

Ah! The beginning of Parrot! 

Sorry this took so long. ^^”

* * *

He awoke in darkness.

Where was he? Why was it so dark? How had he gotten here?

He’d tried calling out, tried reaching out. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, and it didn’t seem as though anyone could hear him. He couldn’t hear anything either. It was just silence.

He knew **who** he was at the very least. He was Henry Stein. He worked at Joey Drew Studio with his friend, Joey Drew.

Although, his friendship with Joey had been a bit strained lately. All give on his end and all take on Joey’s end. He wondered if Joey had been the one to do this to him. But, no, surely Joey wouldn’t have gone _this_ far. Things weren’t **that** bad between the two of them.

He couldn’t think of how else he had ended up in this place, though.

He kept telling himself he’d ask someone whenever they came by. Surely _someone_ would know what was going on.

But no one came by.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.

Someone did come by sometimes. A young man, judging from the sound of his voice. The young man would pick him up, mumbling things to himself, and a recorder would play. The more times this happened, the more his situation became clear to him.

He was trapped in a tape recorder.

That was why he could neither see nor move. He wasn’t sure if he could talk, as he hadn’t tried. He couldn’t talk while the recording was playing, which he learned too late to make contact with the young man.

He did manage to make contact with Joey, though.

Joey arrived at one point, his voice far older than Henry remembered, taking the tape recorder Henry had found himself trapped in somewhere else.

Henry could have cried. He still didn’t know where he was, but at least he wasn’t in complete silence anymore. He could hear Joey humming to himself, listening to the radio, watching television.

It felt so good not to be in silence, to be able to hear **something**. The humming did get repetitive after a bit, but Henry far preferred it to the oppressive silence. He loved being able to hear something again.

But then Joey mentioned possibly putting the tape player back.

“I don’t know why I’m keeping this around,” Joey muttered to himself, and Henry felt him picking up the recorder. “It only plays one thing.”

Henry felt his heart sink and terror grip him. He couldn’t go back to that silence. He couldn’t go back to wherever he’d been before.

“Don’t send me back!” He screamed. “Please! I can’t go back there! Don’t send me back to that place!”

For a long time, Joey didn’t say anything. Henry assumed Joey couldn’t hear him, since he couldn’t see the other man’s face. Joey had in fact heard Henry, though.

He stared at the tape recorder, completely baffled. All that work he’d put into creating Photo and Plush, and a copy of Henry had just popped up on its own. A copy confined to a tape recorder…

The wheels in Joey’s head began to turn. He could make this copy say whatever he wanted him to. The copy’s voice was Henry’s, perfect in every way. It probably didn’t even know it wasn’t Henry.

“Please,” the copy begged. “Don’t send me back there.” Its voice was becoming distorted by static as it grew more and more agitated.

“My apologies, you simply startled me,” Joey said, his voice sickly sweet. “I won’t put you back, don’t worry.”

The copy began to cry. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

He would come to regret that.

He wasn’t the real Henry. He was just a copy. He figured that out long before he heard the real Henry visit the apartment. Joey didn’t treat him like he was Henry. Joey treated him like a prop, a tool.

And while Joey did call him Henry, the copy could tell Joey didn’t really see him that way. He was just that, a copy. A replacement. One moment of Henry Stein’s life captured on tape. Joey could demand answers from the copy all he liked, but they were answers he couldn’t give.

“Why did you leave me, Henry?” Joey often wailed, shaking the tape recorder. “Why?!”

But the copy had no answer. He wasn’t truly Henry. He didn’t know why Henry had left. He didn’t have the answers that Joey desired. Even if he’d had the answers, though, he doubted Joey would have liked them.

Joey had already made up his own narrative about the situation, as he often did when he didn’t like the circumstances. It wasn’t Joey’s fault. It was never Joey’s fault. Someone else was always in the wrong.

He forced the copy to say whatever he wanted in Henry’s voice, and he couldn’t do anything to fight back against it. Over and over he was forced to parrot back whatever Joey felt like hearing that day.

He was nothing more than a tool.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of these ideas were hammered out on Discord between the three of us, so there may be references to things we haven't gotten to yet in the story. ^^"


End file.
